Death of a Supertanker

by Antony Trew

  To Captain Crutchley, listening to all this, it occurred that Jarrett should have been a lawyer, not a seaman. This prompted him to scribble a note for Goodbody: If things were so difficult on the bridge why didn’t he ask me to come up? He’s already said in evidence that I told him to let me know if he wanted me on the bridge.

  Goodbody read it, scribbled on the reverse side and passed it back: Good point. It won’t be overlooked. Our friend is beginning to limp.

  Crutchley wished he could agree. Jarrett appeared to him to be doing rather well.

  Captain Wedderburn told the Chairman he had no further questions. Captain Bronson, the other Assessor, a dark, sallow man with surgically cold eyes took over.

  ‘Did you check the four o’clock position plotted by the second officer before he left the bridge?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘When did you first use the Decca Navigator to fix the ship’s position that morning?’

  Jarrett replied that the Decca logbook had been entered with the 0400 position by the second officer. There was no reason whatever to suppose that it was an incorrect position. Although the Decca logbook was ruled for positions at twenty-minute intervals, it was customary to record them at forty-minute intervals, except in close waters like the Straits of Dover. The next fix by Decca would have been due at 0440, but he had not been able to attend to it because he’d been busy avoiding collision with the first trawler. It was after they’d passed astern of that trawler, and were returning to the south-west, that he’d gone to the Decca Navigator and found that it was not functioning. That was at about ten past five.

  ‘It appears from the evidence that when taking collision-avoidance action you were giving wheel orders for long slow turns to port and starboard. Also that you were making large alterations of course.’ Captain Bronson looked at the folio on the table before him. ‘For instance the evidence shows that the first alteration of course – that for the big ship ahead – was from two-six-seven to two-nine-five degrees. Was it necessary to make such big alterations?’

  Jarrett smiled confidently. ‘Yes, sir. It has been drummed into our generation of ship handlers that when taking avoiding action, particularly in fog, large alterations are safer than small ones.’

  ‘I see.’ Captain Bronson, a man in the middle fifties, could scarcely have missed the inference that ‘our generation’ knew something his didn’t. ‘And why the long slow turns? Towards the land incidentally, each time you went to starboard?’

  ‘I was beginning those turns when the target ships were several miles away. It is necessary when handling a VLCC for collision avoidance to begin your turn well in advance. These three-hundred-thousand-ton supertankers don’t handle quite like ten-thousand-ton ships.’ The way Jarrett said that made clear the tag he’d put on Bronson’s experience.

  ‘I’ll take your word for it, Mr Jarrett.’ The Assessor’s cold eyes outstared the chief officer’s. ‘But they seem just as liable to run aground.’

  Goodbody passed a note to Captain Crutchley. How to win friends and influence people.

  Bronson considered his notes. ‘Why, when you had these two trawlers crossing ahead of you from starboard to port, did you not reduce speed rather than alter course towards the land?’

  ‘I thought I had ample searoom.’

  ‘Presumably your generation of ship handlers has not been taught to keep away from the land in dense fog.’ Having fired that shot across the chief officer’s bows, Bronson announced that he had no further questions.

  Goodbody rose with a friendly smile to cross-examine the chief officer.

  ‘Mr Jarrett, from your evidence and that of the quartermasters, it is not clear during what period the course was two-six-seven when it should have been two-five-seven? Did that error begin at four o’clock when you took over, or are you suggesting it began at two-forty when the second officer fixed the ship’s position and altered course to allow for the north-westerly set of the current?’

  ‘It certainly was incorrect from four o’clock onwards. I’ve no means of knowing what course was steered from two-forty because the chart and other records are missing.’

  ‘But when you took over the watch, right up to the time of stranding, the chart and other records were not missing. You could have seen the positions plotted by the second officer at two-forty and four o’clock. In other words you could have checked the course made good since two-forty, could you not?’

  Jarrett did not answer at once. ‘My first concern when I took over the watch was to check on traffic in the vicinity. To examine the chart I would have had to go to the chartroom. I did not want to leave the wheelhouse while Fernandez was down below. I was at that time the only person on the bridge.’

  ‘But it was you who sent Fernandez below to fetch your jersey. Why did you not get Cavalho, the standby man, to fetch it?’

  ‘We were not then in fog. I knew Fernandez would only be a few minutes.’

  ‘Why did you not check the course – and the ship’s position – when he returned?’

  ‘The second officer had obtained a fix shortly before – at four o’clock. The next was due at four-forty. There didn’t seem any urgency, and in any case I was already worrying about the ship coming up ahead.’

  Goodbody plunged a hand deep into a trouser pocket and grasped the lapel of his coat with another. It was a gesture which somehow made him look even larger and more formidable than he was. He squinted at the Republican Coat-of-Arms on the wall behind the Chairman as if trying to discern some detail there, his face very serious. By the time he turned back to Jarrett he was smiling again – a warm, outward-giving smile. ‘You have told the court that when you phoned the Captain to report the fog his last words to you were, “Let me know if you need me on the bridge at any time”. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In your interesting and – if I may say so – erudite discourse on TM and AC radar, you said both sets could be manned at the same time. You quoted this as one of the advantages, did you not?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘You added a rider – “if there were enough people on the bridge”?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You have stressed in your evidence that you were so busy during the critical period – let us say between five and five-thirty – that you had no time to establish by radar where the ship was in relation to the land?’

  ‘Yes. I have explained that I was fully occupied with three successive collision-avoidance situations in that time.’

  ‘I see.’ Mr Goodbody looked at the chief officer with a mildly surprised expression. ‘Why then did you not ask the Captain to come up? Surely you needed him then?’

  ‘There seemed no point.’

  ‘No point, Mr Jarrett? You were too busy to plot the ship’s position – too busy to check the ship’s course – too preoccupied with avoiding collisions – too busy to use both TM and AC radars at once, though they were alongside each other in the wheelhouse. With the Captain on the bridge would you not have had time to do these things? How can you say there was no point in asking him to come up?’

  ‘The Captain’s presence on the bridge would not have helped.’

  ‘Perhaps you might care to amplify that statement?’

  Jarrett was patently embarrassed. He fidgeted with his hands, moved his weight from one foot to the other, looked from Good-body to the Chairman, then at Ohlsson. ‘You are forcing me into a corner where I may have to disclose something I prefer not to.’

  ‘Come, come, Mr Jarrett. Be forthcoming.’

  ‘I prefer not to.’

  The Chairman leant forward, focusing his good eye on the chief officer. ‘Is it something relevant to this enquiry, Mr Jarrett?’

  ‘Yes, Your Worship.’ Jarrett nodded slowly, looking very unhappy.

  ‘Then I must remind you that you are bound to answer counsel’s question.’

  ‘Come, Mr Jarrett. Let’s have it,’ prompted Goodbody.

  ‘I did not call Captain Cru
tchley because I knew his presence on the bridge could make no difference. It would have been for formal purposes only.’

  The Chairman intervened again. ‘Kindly explain yourself.’

  ‘The Captain’s vision is badly impaired.’ Jarrett blurted it out. ‘For most of the voyage – since we left Rotterdam – it has been so.’

  Goodbody paused, looked down at the impassive figure of Captain Crutchley sitting beside him with folded arms, the dark glasses seeming now to be of enormous significance. The barrister turned back to Jarrett. ‘That is a most damaging allegation. Perhaps you could explain how the Captain managed to take his ship from Rotterdam to Durban with such defective vision?’

  ‘He used Cadet Middleton as his eyes. He was never on the bridge without him. He used to ask Middleton to take bearings of other ships, of shore objects. He always got him to examine the radar displays and report what he saw. While the ship was undergoing repairs in Durban, Middleton was transferred to another ship. Without him …’ Jarrett gestured with his arms, shook his head and fell silent.

  ‘I see.’ Goodbody’s lips parted in a smile which revealed moist white teeth. ‘Did you read the Captain’s night order book when you took over the watch at four o’clock that morning – or were you too busy?’

  Jarrett’s frown suggested he didn’t like the sarcasm. ‘Yes. I did. And I signed it.’

  ‘Perhaps you could explain to the court how a man whose vision was as badly impaired as you say Captain Crutchley’s was, could write up his night order book with entries which included, among other things, numerals of time, date and position?’

  ‘I haven’t said that he was blind. I said his vision was impaired. If you don’t believe me I suggest you test it here and now in this court.’ A note of asperity had crept into Jarretťs voice.

  ‘I have no intention of perpetrating such an impertinence. The vision of a lot of highly competent men who carry great responsibility may be badly impaired.’ Goodbody paused, looked across at the Chairman – seeming to focus on the black eye-shield – and then at Lourens. ‘You may have noticed that My Learned Friend – counsel for the enquiry – wears pebble-lens glasses. Presumably his vision is impaired. Would you care to suggest he is incapable of leading this enquiry?’

  Ohlsson got up, his sharp eyes glinting. ‘Objection, Your Worship. The eyesight of counsel for the enquiry has nothing to to with the stranding of Ocean Mammoth. My Learned Friend is endeavouring to lead us away from the point.’

  ‘I can assure you I shall bring him back to it if he does,’ said the Chairman. ‘Objection dismissed. Please proceed, Mr Goodbody.’

  ‘Your answer to my last question, Mr Jarrett?’

  ‘Leading an enquiry in a courtroom in broad daylight is a very different matter from handling a ship in thick fog in a white knuckle situation.’

  Goodbody beamed. ‘Ah, our old friend the white knuckle. Admiral Lord Nelson seemed to handle such situations quite competently in spite of somewhat impaired vision. Now, Mr Jarrett, let me put to you the situation as I see it. You came on watch at four o’clock in the morning. You did not check the ship’s course. You did not check the ship’s position. The ship encountered fog half an hour later. You say you reported the fog to the Captain but …’

  Goodbody stopped, looked towards the Chairman, then at Jarrett. ‘In his statement at the preliminary enquiry, Captain Crutchley denied that absolutely. He said your story of a telephone conversation was pure fabrication. Indeed he said that had speed been reduced or the siren sounded he would have gone to the bridge at once without waiting for any report. That would, he said, have been the automatic response of the Master of a ship, particularly when close to land. It is a view which I have no doubt the master mariners in this court would strongly endorse.’ Goodbody glanced at the Assessors, his face serious. ‘But no siren was sounded. Jackson, the electrician, says the junction box had been interfered with.’ Goodbody paused, adjusted his spectacles, looked up suddenly. ‘I put it to you, Mr Jarrett, that there never was any telephone conversation – that you were determined the Captain should not come up to the bridge that night.’

  ‘Objection, Your Worship.’ Ohlsson was on his feet again, his sharp features switching left and right like a ventriloquist’s dummy. ‘My Learned Friend is addressing the court, not cross-examining the witness. I really must object.’

  The Chairman’s bushy eyebrows lifted in a frown. ‘Counsel is perfectly entitled to put to the witness the situation as he sees it. I’ve no doubt he is coming to a question.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Worship. Indeed I am.’ Goodbody had a wonderful capacity for conveying respect, or indeed any other emotion necessary. He addressed himself once more to Jarrett. ‘In your evidence you have painted a grim picture of the intolerable burden laid upon you in the hour and forty minutes before Ocean Mammoth ran aground. You had no time, you have said, to do those fundamental essential things like checking the course, fixing the position – the very thihgs upon which the safety of that great ship and all those in her depended.

  ‘I suggest …’ Goodbody’s smile froze and the hand that held the notes pointed accusingly, ‘that for reasons best known to you, you had the arrogance to decide, at a time of crisis and danger, that it was neither necessary nor desirable to call the man responsible for the safety of the ship, the man who commanded her – the Master of Ocean Mammoth.

  ‘Even if he were blind, it was your duty to call him. Even if he could not see at all, his judgement – the judgement of the Master, the most experienced seaman in the ship – should have been made available. And if his vision was indeed badly impaired – and Cadet Middleton was not there – who better to be his eyes than you, his chief officer?’ For the first time since the enquiry had begun Goodbody glared contempt at the man in the witness box.

  ‘What is the question?’ Jarrett’s manner bordered on the insolent.

  ‘Was it or was it not your duty to call the Captain?’

  ‘It depends on what you mean by duty?’

  Goodbody gave the chief officer the sort of look reserved for bad smells. ‘No further questions, Your Worship.’

  Jarrett left the witness box and Foley was recalled at Ohlsson’s request.

  Chapter 30

  To his wife, sitting well back in the public gallery, Foley looked a tired dispirited man as he got up from the table where he sat beside Kahn and made for the witness box. Knowing how much he disliked and feared Ohlsson, she could imagine his feelings at that moment. Her heart went out to him.

  He mounted the steps to the box, looked for a moment towards her, his face quite expressionless, then turned wearily to face his inquisitor.

  ‘There’s one point I’d like to clear up before we go any further,’ began Ohlsson. ‘There have been a number of references in evidence to the failure of the auto-siren. Was it not your duty to test it before leaving harbour on each occasion?’

  ‘Yes. It was.’

  ‘Did you test it before leaving Durban?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It was a job I’d delegated to Cadet Middleton. He left the ship in Durban and I overlooked the matter.’

  ‘So you failed to test the siren?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ohlsson darted a quick sidelong glance at those on the dais.

  ‘When you handed over the watch to the chief officer did you warn him that the current had set north-westerly during your watch?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘A warning about the current is printed on the chart and in the Sailing Directions. Apart from that, the chief officer could have seen the set from the positions I’d plotted on the chart during my watch.’

  ‘But you did not warn him?’

  ‘No. I’ve just explained why.’

  Ohlsson busied himself with his notes before looking up suddenly as if hoping to catch the second officer off guard. ‘At what time did you leave your cabin, because you could not sleep, Mr Foley
?’

  The second officer hesitated. ‘I can’t say with any accuracy. About five o’clock perhaps.’

  ‘Why the vagueness about the time?’

  ‘I was not wearing my watch and I did not switch on the cabin light for fear of disturbing my wife.’

  ‘Do you often have difficulty in sleeping?’

  ‘Not as a rule.’

  ‘Why on that occasion, then?’

  Foley hesitated. ‘I was worried.’

  ‘Worried. By what?’

  ‘It was a personal matter.’

  ‘I see.’ Ohlsson nodded slowly, staring at Foley. ‘A personal matter. H’m. You have said that some time after coming up to the lower bridge deck and finding the ship in fog, you’d noticed she was steering well to the north-west of the course you’d plotted. At what time did you make this observation?’

  ‘About ten minutes after I came on deck.’

  ‘And how did you in fog, in the dark, without instruments, come to the conclusion that the ship was steering well to the north-west of the course you’d plotted?’

  ‘Throughout the middle-watch there was a swell from the south-east. When I noticed that its direction relative to the ship had changed from four points on the port quarter to dead astern, I knew there had been a substantial alteration of course to the north-west. It was then I assumed we had already passed Cape Agulhas and were making for Cape Point.’

  ‘You have said in your evidence that later, when course was again altered to the south-west, you became suspicious.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘It was then that you went to the chartroom?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why did you not at once go to the officer-of-the-watch in the wheelhouse – the chief officer – and inform him of your fears?’

  Foley hesitated, looked unhappy. ‘I wanted to make sure first what was happening. I was under the impression the Captain was on the bridge.’

  ‘How long was it between the arousal of your suspicions and the arrival of the chief officer in the chartroom?’